The Gifts of the Magi
by Randomabiling
Summary: December 1920. Christmas was always a magical time, but with the wounds of the year still fresh and swirling blizzard in Yorkshire, will Christmas magic find it's way to Downton? My entry for the Cobert Holiday Fanfic Exchange 2015. My word was 'clandestine' and my image was the snowy path.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I obviously don't own Downton or any of its characters. And the title, "The Gifts of the Magi", is the title of the famous O. Henry story. This story works loosely, very loosely, on that plot...more just inspired by its themes more than anything.**

December 1920

Cora sat, her face angled toward the window of the train car, though Robert doubted she saw anything beyond the hollow lines of her own reflection in the glass. No, she couldn't possibly, with eyes that remained transfixed and unblinking. The train panted heavily along the track, the couplings clanking in protest as they pushed through the cotton covered landscape. As the metallic groans grew in volume the further they traveled from London, so did Cora's silence. A silence thicker than the steam plumes belched into the air by the engine's chimney. It was a new habit of hers, one Robert was learning to live with, just as he was learning to live with the edge her sudden retreats left him hanging on.

Shifting, Robert peered out the small window, squinting as his shallow breaths met the cold glass, each exhalation creating a spider web of frost that slowly distorted his view. Not that there was much to see save the giant, fluffy flakes of snow tumbling haphazardly from the sky. A million of them, chasing angrily after each other so that, as the sun left the earth for one more night, all that was discernable, was white.

Sighing, Robert fell back into the stiff cushion of his seat and drummed his fingertips against his knee, the action only serving to increase the tension in his muscles. For the handful of days they'd spent in London, Rosamund infusing every moment with conversation and activity, Robert had almost forgotten the heartache lodged in his chest. Even Cora had seemed more herself, laughing and smiling, two of the many things lost that haunted his sleep these last few months.

The rustling of wool and silk captured Robert's attention and he quickly looked across to his wife as she fidgeted in her seat, looking for comfort. The conductor had skittishly coaxed the train along for miles now, the angry whine of brakes and the hiss of the whistle punctuating the low murmurs of conversation throughout the car. Glad that she was out of the strange fugue she so easily slipped in and out of, Robert relaxed his face into a smile as she met his eyes.

Blinking rapidly, Cora turned from him once again and Robert felt the stretch of his lips fade into a frown until her tongue peaked from the cover of her lips, wetting the fragile skin of her mouth.

"It looks fierce out," Cora said softly and Robert listed forward, eager to catch the words she spoke.

"Hmm," Robert agreed. "There's no sign of a let up. I've been watching since we boarded. I think it's getting worse."

"Well, we are sure to get a white Christmas," Cora observed, the words lacking any of the excitement usually accompanying the sentiment and Robert reached across the space between them, covering Cora's hand with his own.

"Cora...darling…" His words caressed the air and she closed her eyes and let her head fall just slightly, leaning into the touch of his voice.

Robert would have said more. There were so many words hammering away in the walls of his head, fighting to race down his tongue, but Cora's quietness at times begged to remain undisturbed. And he was loathe to be the one to break it, to ruffle the fragile feathers of their newly born peace.

He would follow her lead, too afraid of the alternative to do otherwise. But sometimes, sometimes the need to speak to her, to say the things ballooning in his chest, pressing against his heart, was too painful to ignore. Robert opened his mouth but his voice was soon cancelled out by the screech of wheels as the train decelerated suddenly. The jarring motion pushed Cora forward and Robert braced her by the shoulders, holding her steady.

High pitched, startled gasps and deep, demanding rumbles erupted around them, the friction of discontented noises electrifying the air. The hair on the back of Robert's neck rose and he leaned toward the window, looking out once more into the inky night. Exhaling loudly, Robert eased back at seeing the snow swirling in the halo of the station's lamps, men clad in wool coats pushing snow off of the platform.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention." The attendant bellowed, his voice containing an authority that was undermined as he hastily swiped the sweat off of his glistening brow.

The shuffling and murmurs of the other passengers petered out as the people in first class turned back around to face the man speaking. Clearing his throat, the attendant balled his kerchief in his hand and straightened into rigid attention.

"I am sorry to inform you that this will be the last stop for the evening. Our mechanics up ahead aren't able to keep the track clear."

"Robert-" The rise in Cora's voice as her fingers tucked themselves into the folds of his coat sleeve preceded the rise in commotion within their car as passengers destined for the station they remained parked at gathered their belongings in a rash relief, glad to have reached where they needed to be. The others, now stranded as he and Cora were, started up in protest.

"What do you mean, sir?" One gangly man bellowed, standing up and over the green looking attendant. "What would you have us do?"

"You...you can remain on the train." The attendant stammered. "The boiler will be kept running. It shall be warm enough."

"Stay on the train?!" Robert spat, jumping from his seat. "This is madness!"

"Robert-" Cora tried, laying a hand on his arm, which he shrugged off as he grabbed his hat and overcoat.

"Sir, I assure you-," the train attendant choked on the rest of his words as Robert looked over his shoulder, his blue eyes wide and bulging.

"Lord Grantham!" Robert growled. "Cora, come!"

Cora snatched up her clutch and rushed from her seat, Robert's back was already far down the aisle as he stomped to the door of the train. Not stopping to make sure of her progress, Robert was on the platform as Cora reached the iron steps leading her out of the train. Gripping the offered arm of the station guard, her wan smile twitched at him automatically. The wood under her feet groaned and the heels of her boots pulled her in precarious directions as they met the icy coating underneath. The guard tightened his hold on her, keeping her upright as the cold air momentarily seized her lungs. Once steady, Cora searched for the edges of her coat, intent on closing up the gaps that allowed the bitter air through the fibers of her clothing, but her hand only met the delicate silk buttons of her blouse at the base of her throat. Sighing she turned back to the shuttered up train, realizing she had left the garment in her seat as she had tried to keep up with Robert.

Turning in the direction he had pounded off in, Cora thought a moment of running back into the warm compartment but Robert showed no signs of slowing and so she quickly made off in his direction, arms flailing to hold herself upright as she skidded once more.

"You there!" Robert demanded as he rounded the ticket booth and advanced on the car park.

The cabbie he had spotted halted his movement into the motor and searched the pinched face of the man bearing down quickly on him. Before the man could respond, Robert was opening the back door himself, holding his hand out for Cora to enter. It was then he noticed she was tenderly placing her steps on the snowy platform as she slowly walked in his direction. Huffing out a quick burst of air, Robert brought his attention back to the cabbie.

"We will need you to drive us to Yorkshire." Robert stated, swatting at the snow weighing down his eyelashes.

The man shook his head before answering. "No sir. There'll be no driving tonight. The roads are a beast."

Clenching his teeth, Robert stepped closer. "I will pay you double your fare."

The cabbie crossed his arms and lifted one eyebrow. "That's a tempting proposition, _my lord,_ but no."

Throwing his arms up, Robert reached in his breast pocket for his bill fold. "Here. It's all I have. Let me take your car, then. I'll have my man drive it back to you in the morning."

Screwing his mouth up incredulously, the cabbie snatched the money, his jaw slackening as he counted the currency. Placing the bills in his pocket he handed Robert the keys.

"Good luck," the man muttered and flipped the collar of his coat up against a gust of snow, hurrying across the street, in the direction of a lit up inn.

Cora sighed loudly as she approached Robert's side, her breath materializing in the air around her mouth as it's warm moisture mixed with the cold. Robert took her by the elbow and guided her around to the passenger door, stopping with confusion as he was met with resistance.

"Robert, what are you doing?" Cora asked, her forehead wrinkling as her brows rose.

"We are driving home." Robert replied, tugging her to follow.

Cora leaned away, planting her feet where they stood. "Are you serious? Be sensible!"

Robert dipped his head closer to hers, holding her eyes with his own. "What do you suggest we do, Cora? Camp on the train? I know your American sensibilities allow for almost any concession, but I for one am not about to spend the night with a gaggle of strangers like a common band of gypsies."

Robert let go of her arm and strode to the driver's door, opening it and sitting down. Starting the car, the motor whined to life, it's machinations clacking and snuffling its song into the night. Grinding her teeth together, Cora's ire at his insults and foul mood flamed hotly for a moment before it just as quickly snuffed out, as most intense emotions did lately. Numbness tingled over her once again and her shoulders slumped forward before she slowly rounded the car and took her place in the seat.

Without looking at her, Robert threw the shift into gear, pressed his foot to the pedal, and the car jerked into motion, carrying them into the snowy landscape.

"I won't miss Sybbie's first Christmas."

Robert's words were almost lost over the noise of the car, but Cora heard them. She felt them in the burning squeeze of her heart and the lingering toss of her stomach. Her hands balled into fists, the blunted nails of her fingers painfully burying themselves into the flesh of her palms.

 _Sybbie's first Christmas._

Cora's mind wandered to the Christmas before. She saw it, as though it were still tickling her hand, Sybil's letter to them. She was going to have a baby. Cora had been full of joy. Her first grandchild. And then Matthew had proposed to Mary and everything had seemed so very hopeful and possible.

How their fortunes had changed in the span of a year.

Sinking further into the chilly leather of the seat, Cora shivered and wrapped her arms around her middle, closing her eyes as the familiar sting pricked her lids.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you everyone who has reviewed! It means so much to read your encouragement. I'm not really sure how many chapters this is going to be. Probably only two more.**

The leather of the steering wheel groaned as Robert clutched it more firmly, the hills of his knuckles bulging above the column. He could feel the pulse of the wheel against his palms, could feel the car sway ever so slightly from left to right as the snow covered road attempted to pull the tires in opposite directions. Easing off of the gas, the muscles in his arms growing taut with the effort to keep the car straight, he chanced a look to his side.

Cora sat wordlessly, the bones of her jaw jutting out through the thin skin of her cheek, her brows furrowed deeply over her steady eyes as they squinted through the opaque white just beyond the window. A small tremor passed over her body and she folded in on herself more.

It was then that Robert noticed she only wore her day dress and light sweater.

"Where is your coat?" Robert questioned.

"On the train." Cora answered tersely before closing her teeth onto her bottom lip, worrying the flesh there.

"What do you mean, on the train? It's freezing out, Cora!" Robert sputtered, volleying his eyes between her unchanging face and the road.

"Thank you for pointing that out, Robert. Perhaps you recall your exit from the train. It was all I could do to keep up with you." Cora directed her reply to the window.

"And your gloves as well?" Robert asked.

Cora's chin jerked in a downward direction before angling her steely eyes into his. "Yes. Along with our luggage and the presents we bought in London."

"Ugh…" Robert sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, more angry at himself with each growing moment.

He had acted poorly, to all of it. Of course they should have stayed on the train, he knew that now. If he were honest, he had known it then too, but something had driven him out and forward. So many things recently had seemed beyond his control. The war. The loss of Cora's money. The bit by bit taking over that seemed to be happening with Matthew. Sybil.

And Cora. The change in her, not just as she found new roots in the modern world, but since Sybil. The way her grief was a second skin she shed and adorned at blinding speed.

Robert couldn't keep up with any of it, hadn't been able to for some time and the train, stuck miles upon miles away from Downton on the eve of Christmas had been the last hurdle to fell him.

It didn't help that it was he who insisted they stay one more night. Cora had weakly fought to leave the day before.

Another poor decision made by him that she would have to suffer from.

He had been driven by a blinding certainty that he could make it right. That they wouldn't miss Sybbie's first Christmas. As they continued on their journey, Robert broke out in a sweat, clammy and chilled. It was getting harder and harder to see the road as the snow continued to fall and the machine guided by his hands threatened to spin madly out of his control at any moment.

A jagged, tired release of breath had Robert glancing to his wife. Cora's head fell forward and she shook it slowly, her eyelids slowly lowering.

"Cora?" Robert asked softly and her head snapped back up at his tender tone.

"Watch the road, Robert!" Cora's voice clipped her words anxiously.

His head processed what she was saying, in some lonesome corner agreeing with the practical rightness of them. He felt himself nodding in assent but still his eyes remained on her a fraction of a second longer than they should have.

Robert watched, as though watching a dramatic pantomime, as Cora's eyes widened, as her mouth stretched out into a perfect circle, as her arm shot forward, bracing herself on the dashboard.

"Robert!" Her shrill voice broke the air, shattering it like glass.

Swiftly, Robert spun his attention forward, a large spruce tree directly in their path. His mind, in lazy disbelief, wondered how it had gotten in the middle of the road even as his hands passed one over the other, frantically forcing the car to the right. The tires lost all ability to grip the icy ground below and they screamed their discontent so that Robert's head was pounding with the sound. The wheel in his hand jerked and spun, the leather burning his palms with the friction as he tried to hold on. He tensed his arms and finally closed his eyes, the view out of the window no longer white, but a tornado of whirling scenery.

Robert tensed, waiting for some crush, some horrific pain and the blunt silence of death, but the car lurched and with a dull thud and jarring of his seat, the whole world stopped.

Opening his eyes, Robert blinked rapidly, his lungs twitching in spasms within his ribcage as the adrenaline soared and then filtered through his body. A groan to his left and Robert whipped around, his fingers already reaching and prodding and looking for signs of distress.

"Are you alright?" He demanded, touching Cora's shoulder, her leg, shifting her chin so he could see her face.

A growing lump on her forehead told him she'd hit herself on the window.

"Dammit!" Robert cursed as Cora rubbed at the spot and winced.

Robert still felt as though the car were careening in every direction, still felt tossed and jumbled. His stomach rolled and he reached for the handle, suddenly needing the crisp oxygen waiting for him outside. His hands shook as he pushed his door open and he stumbled from the car, the shock of the wet snow on his face stunning him. Tucking his hands into his coat pockets, Robert walked around the front of the car, assessing the damage. They had veered off of the road, narrowly missing the tree. A large snow bank engulfed the front half of the car, a yawning cave of fluffy flakes holding the automobile firmly in its jaws.

Cursing, Robert kicked the tire. The air sped out of him in angry puffs of spittle and carbon dioxide. His fists curled and then opened. The sound of his knuckles popping and his exhalations were the only things to hear out on the deserted road. He turned in a circle, white covered farmland all to see as far as his vision would reach. They were still so very far from Downton.

Looking back down the road they had traveled, his mind rapidly worked at figuring the distance. How long had they been driving? Could they walk back to the station? Glancing into the car, he saw Cora cup her hands together in front of her face. Her lips puckered as she blew onto the exposed flesh. She then unfolded the digits and rubbed them vigorously before cupping them again and blowing, repeating the motions in a strange pattern to thaw the growing cold of her skin.

"Goddammit!" Robert shouted to no one, pounding his fist into the tin hood of the car.

Cora jumped in her seat, all movement stilling as she stared at him with what looked like..fear. Robert strode over to her side of the car and opened the door.

"Move across, Cora. Sit behind the wheel." Robert instructed briskly.

"What?" Cora asked dumbly and Robert felt the last hold he had on his rage burst.

"Move!" Robert shouted and, too astonished by his outburst to demand an apology, Cora scurried away from him into the driver's seat.

"Turn the key and start the car once more." Robert told her, putting spaces between his words, calming his voice a little even as his heart punched against his sternum.

His plan had to work.

"I am going dig some of the snow away from the car. And I'm going to push. When I tell you, put the shift into reverse and stomp on the gas. That pedal there, as hard as you can." Robert explained.

Biting her lip and not meeting his eyes, Cora nodded that she understood.

"Cora…" Robert said, quieter now. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Robert." Cora replied, though her inability to look at him said something vastly different.

Choosing to not press her, Robert closed the door and hurried to the front, taking his gloves from his jacket pocket he began to dig.

* * *

Robert took the edges of his coat and tucked them tighter around Cora before his arms followed, bringing her as close as he could to his chest. He rubbed his hand up and down her arms, coaxing some heat into her while looking out the window. The car hadn't budged, all of his shoving and cursing, all of Cora's pedal pushing, doing nothing but causing the tires to spin where they were stuck, the noxious smell of rubber burning the hairs in his nose.

He had given up finally. Had scrambled back into the car, taken off his top wool coat, his suit jacket between him and the freezing cold, and put it on Cora amidst her protests. Robert tried to convince himself someone would come looking for them. But who? Who even knew where they were?

As time went by, as no sign of another soul passed them by, Robert told himself it would be fine. They would huddle together and come morning, someone would surely find them. But the chattering of Cora's teeth below his ear, and the fine trembles thrumming against his arms urged him to come up with a plan.

"I think...there was...a farm...not far back…" Cora stammered.

"Really? I hadn't noticed." Robert said.

"Yes...I saw it." Cora said. "We could...walk...not more than a mile."

"A mile..." Robert repeated, the spark of hope she had ignited dwindling.

"We have got to try." Cora insisted. "I can't feel my toes. I am not going to sit here and freeze to death, Robert Crawley!"

Robert couldn't help the punch of laughter that left his chest and penetrated the quietness of the car. He hugged Cora tighter, feeling a warmth spread in his belly more satisfying than a cup of steaming tea. There had been a trace of teasing in Cora's words, her tone containing the slightest lilt of jest and his throat had ached from the sound of it.

After Dr. Clarkson's revelation so many months ago, after she had forgiven him, Cora had rallied, or so he thought. There was Sybbie and Tom's permanent residence to consider and then their granddaughter's christening. Though prone to bouts of grief, Cora had seemed to be getting on.

And then autumn arrived, and with it Sybil's birthday.

Whatever healing that had occurred was undone, the scab ripped off and the wound weeping once again. And after Sybil's birthday it was time to think about Christmas. With every mention of the holiday, Sybil's favorite, every preparation, Robert could see the quiet toll it was taking on Cora. The constant reminder of what was gone kept her more often than not seeking solitude. She retreated further and further from him, always kind, always loving, nothing like the horrible first weeks after their daughter's death, but she would take no solace, brushing him away sadly after a moment or two of comfort.

So to hear just now, the smallest of playful barbs thrown at him, after he had gotten them into a dire mess, bolstered him. Her words sent Robert fumbling about the door and leaving the shelter of the car, opening her's and helping Cora as she stepped into the snowbank that had collected around them.

The snow had stopped falling, leaving the countryside eerily serene, like the stillness of a battlefield after the last bullet has been shot. The moon, bloated and low hanging in the sky, cast its light onto the earth, bouncing off the white coating and brightening the night. It was all really quite beautiful, a living painting.

"If I weren't so cold I'd almost describe this as breathtaking," Cora sighed, stealing the thoughts right from his head, as was her preternatural skill.

Robert turned her body towards his and popped up the collar of his coat so that it covered her ears. Outside of the car, she was almost comical wearing his wool. It hung off of her slight frame and swallowed her up and Robert could not resist the urge to place his arm around her shoulder and hold her close as they began to walk in the direction of the farm she had seen.

In the crisp night, their lungs working quickly to expel the sharp shards of air they breathed in, they huddled into one another and set forth on their journey. And though Robert could feel the bitter fingers of winter tickling his skin, though they were lost and vulnerable, and it was Christmas Eve, he felt a sense of calm, a sense that Cora was leading them to safety.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thank you all for your lovely reviews! This is a short one, but I felt like the story flowed better if it stood alone. Next one should be a lot longer. I think two more will do it for this story. Happy New Year's Eve! (Or New Years to those of you who are already living in 2016!)**

Robert was doubtful about putting his full weight on the narrow, creaking chair he sat upon. Bracing himself on its edge, Robert took another sip of the steaming grog the lady of the house had given him. Glancing into the cup of muddy liquid, he guessed it was a concoction of herbs steeped in boiling water and a drop of lemon.

The grimace the earthy drink had produced was firmly set on his face when he happened to raise his eyes. The appraising, dark orbs of the man who had let them in met him straight on and Robert straightened his back uncomfortably, coughing away any lingering traces of disgust.

Robert let his gaze roam around the modest room they sat in. A decrepit sofa, most of its gaudy tapestry worn away, sat in front of the hearth. The small table he sat at, its wood marked and gouged from use, wobbled whenever he set his chipped cup on its top. The tired beams of the house's walls groaned as the wind outside blew, and gusts of arctic air found their way in through the gaping joints, sending a chill through Robert's body.

He supposed it was better than the car, and he was glad that they were no longer walking out in the freezing night, exposed. Robert turned to where the woman of the house had deposited Cora. Even sitting as close to the fire as she could, piled with what seemed to be every matted down, half torn blanket the farmer's wife could find, she looked frozen through. Robert had to plant his feet where they were, taming the urge to go over and hold her until the warmth came back and her anemic-looking pallor turned pink.

It had taken them longer than he'd expected to traverse the path from their car to the farm house. Silently, they had made their way, and as they walked farther and farther, Cora's steps had grown more leaden, her shivering just an intermittent quake. Robert had tossed aside the careful progress he had been making and doubled his steps, a growing sense of fear pushing him on.

His knees had weakened when finally, on the horizon, the small speck of a shadow took the form of a shabby, old farmhouse, complete with a string of dusty smoke wafting out its chimney.

When they'd knocked on the door, the farmer had eyed them warily and for one sickening moment, Robert thought he would turn them away. But the man's wife, who'd introduced herself as Mrs Robbins, ushered them in and had made quick work of thawing Cora as much as she could.

In the gaseous light thrown off by the lamps lit around the room, the mottled bruising on Cora's forehead stood out. Robert's fingers curled painfully into the flesh of his leg as he let out a long breath, the trail of it cloudy and visible in the cold house.

"You've not said who you are, though I'll take it by your fancy dress and grand manners that you aren't from here." Mr Robbins spoke, his tone as unforgiving as his face.

Immediately, Robert's shoulders rolled back and his chest stretched out, his own features sharpening. "I will have you know-".

"I am Cora Crawley," Cora interrupted, looking at him long enough to quiet his tongue. "And this is my husband, Robert. And you are right, we are some ways away from home."

"Nevermind him!" Mrs Robbins insisted. "Are you warm enough? Give me but a moment and I can fetch you a spot of supper."

Robert observed Cora's eyes skitter around the room. She took in the sparse decoration, the patches her blanket was made of, the small Christmas tree tucked in the corner. It was ornamented with pine cones and branches, nothing like the crystal and ribbons and gold that glittered on their own.

"No thank you. We've imposed enough." Cora smiled around her words, kindly but firmly.

"But surely-," the woman started, her frown as deep as Robert's.

"No, no, really," Cora insisted. "We aren't hungry. Tired, perhaps."

"I've a room in the back!" The woman declared and Cora rose, unwrapping herself from the blankets she had been draped in.

Robert stood too and watched as she carefully worked to fold the scratchy, woolen things. She bent forward, gathering the corners together and as she stretched and twisted, the sharp peaks of her shoulder-blades pierced the thin fabric of her dress.

Mrs Robbins came near and took a candle from the cupboard by Robert. He held out his hand to stop her.

"Perhaps just a nib of bread?" Robert asked softly.

The woman nodded and went to the hamper, tucking the remnants of a loaf in cloth before handing it to him and leading them toward the back of the house. The meager warmth the fire had provided in the main room was absent in the opaqueness behind the door Mrs Robbins opened for them and Robert shuddered. Following Cora, he felt the draft bite at the back of his neck and stepped on the heel of her shoe when she stopped on the threshold.

Looking around her, Mrs Robbins candle illuminated corners of the room and then cast it back in shadows as she moved. He could make out only small details. A narrow bed. A wooden dog on string. An unclothed doll. Cora was stiff in front of him.

"My eldest's room." Mrs Robbins said softly. "We haven't much use for it now. But there is a bed."

Cora remained unmoving until Robert nudged her in. "Thank you Mrs Robbins. It will do just fine."

The woman gave an embarrassed bow of her head and left the candle burning on the nightstand. Robert took Cora by the hands and led her to the bed. She lowered herself, eyes still transfixed on something he couldn't see. They searched, as though waiting for some ghost hiding under the furniture. Robert sat near, keeping her hands in his, rubbing the thin skin of her fingers. Remembering the bread, he took it from the pocket of his suit jacket.

"Here," he insisted, holding it out to her.

Cora shook her head before meeting his eyes finally. They watered and Robert's collar felt tight around his throat.

"I don't want it," Cora said, just the hint of emotion in her voice.

"You've barely eaten all day," Robert sighed, knowing the fight was lost. He couldn't very well force it down her.

"Oh Robert," Cora whispered and he was startled at the way she gripped his hand, the desperate way she dug her nails into him, as though she were falling and he was a tether.

"Cora?" Robert turned fully, in time to see her lip quiver as she bent her head, her other hand clasped over her mouth. She tried to block the sound she made as her tears fell but the hollow echo of her crying filled the room.

"It is alright. It is going to be alright." Robert mouthed onto the top of her head as he brought her to his chest.

And of course, he felt half confident in his assurances. They would get through the night and in the morning they would figure on how to get back to Downton. But he knew, he knew she wasn't sobbing because they found themselves in some stranger's home on Christmas Eve. And sometimes, when he felt especially low or Cora looked more ashen with heartache, he wondered if they would ever be right again.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Thank you to all who have been following and reviewing this story! It sort of took a life of its own. Not exactly what I intended when I set out writing it, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless. There will be one more chapter after this.**

Cora, in the teeter-totter space of half sleep, felt the groan that rumbled the back of her throat, vibrating the soft flesh and humming across her palate to meet the brisk dawn. Still only partly awake, Cora did not open her eyes, but her senses stirred with a graduated sort of clarity. First was the awareness beneath the bridge of her nose, the feeling one woke with after crying before sleep, like cotton filled the space between her eyes. The accompanying pressure weighed down on her cheekbones, making her whole face throb, swollen with the remnants of tears. Her head ached, it's pulsation like a reverberating gong interwoven amongst the orchestra of her other complaints.

Pinned to her spot on the narrow bed, Robert's arm secured around her waist, Cora couldn't yet move. The whole of her right side, tingling and numb from remaining in the same cramped position, demanded she shift and as she struggled to do so, the blood rushing back into idle muscles made her body arch rigidly in the immediate pain of waking.

As the stinging burn under her flesh subsided, once she was left with just her lingering exhaustion and the resettling of the vague depression that was always just under the surface, Cora had the feeling she was being watched. Thinking it Robert, Cora tentatively opened one eye, only to be met by his closed ones, his lips slack in sleep, moving only slightly with the tenor of his snoring.

Twisting around, Cora was met by the curious, clear eyes of a little girl. A strange twinge of immodesty at having been caught in the tiny bed with her husband had her clutching Robert's woolen coat more securely around her. Cora struggled to get out from underneath Robert's hold. Sitting up, she forced a smile on her face.

"Is he Father Christmas?" The small girl asked boldly, crossing her arms and looking disappointed, having already convinced herself of the answer.

Cora chuckled, shaking her head before speaking softly. "No. He is not."

The girl studied Cora seriously for a moment, her vibrant blue eyes holding steady, before she shrugged off any doubts on Cora's trustworthiness and she bounded over, suddenly animated with glee. Her chocolatey tresses, ribboned and curled, were like dark silken vines against the white of her cotton nightdress. Cora guessed her to be about five years old.

Leaning her long frame forward, Cora's chest rested on her interwoven forearms and she looked the child straight on. The girl began talking, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she spoke and gesticulating with her arms, each movement unintentionally bringing her closer. Cora wasn't paying much attention to the content, only a portion of what she said penetrated her thoughts, something about Christmas and presents. Instead, she closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply. Yes, she had it, this little girl, she had the scent all young children have; milk and honey and something she could only describe as clean. Cora had almost forgotten this scent, smelling it on her own girls, drinking it in like a nectar whenever they were cuddled within her arms.

She wanted Sybbie.

The feeling touched her like the lick of a flame and Cora straightened hastily. Pushing away the longing itching within, Cora stood. The movement of the unforgiving mattress jostled Robert, and he woke, muttering grumpily.

"Who is this?" Robert asked hoarsely.

"I am Lizzy!" The little girl declared, looking at Robert with a frown before turning to Cora again, watching as she took off Robert's coat and attempted to smooth out the wrinkles in her dress.

"Are you a princess?" Lizzy asked with wide eyes, her thin fingers reaching out and lightly touching the ornate beading and soft fabric of Cora's dress.

"No darling, I am not a princess," Cora said kindly, and without thinking, stroked the little girl's hair. Lizzy's smile widened.

Robert watched them wordlessly before clearing his throat, and Cora dropped her hand.

"Does that make me a prince?" He asked, teasing.

Lizzy looked him up and down, her eyes staring at the top of his head where his hair, tousled from sleep, stuck out.

"No."

Cora couldn't help the burst of laughter that filled the room and it continued at Robert's shocked face. He reached up and tried patting down the errant strands. A knock at the door stilled them all and Mrs. Robbins peered into the room.

"Lizzy!" Mrs. Robbins admonished. "I hope she hasn't disturbed you."

"Oh no, not at all." Cora reassured the woman.

"Has Father Christmas come? Has he?!" Lizzy asked, jumping in place, her face growing flush.

Cora couldn't help but let Lizzy's excitement warm her but when she looked at Mrs Robbins and saw the woman's smile falter, Cora turned away, holding her breath. When she raised her eyes, Robert was studying her intently.

"Sweetheart…" Mrs. Robbins began but Lizzy had dashed out, scurrying past her mother and toward the modest Christmas tree in the front room.

Mrs. Robbins hurried after her daughter, leaving Cora and Robert alone in the room. Head bowed, Cora walked past Robert and wrenched his coat off of the dresser she had placed it on, the force of her pull causing it to bellow out before she punched her arms through the sleeves.

"Cora-". Robert's thought was interrupted as the muffled sound of crying filtered through the door.

Robert stiffened. Cora's hands balled up at her sides and she bit down on her lip.

"Oh!" Cora said, her eyes shining.

Fumbling at the back of her head, she struggled momentarily with whatever it was she searched for. Finally, her hands came back around and Robert saw she held the intricate comb that had been decorating her tidy curls. She then swiped up her clutch, unclasped the hinge and took out a small bundle wrapped in tissue paper, a floral ribbon tied neatly around it. Cora stared at the gift lying in her palm.

"I saw this in one of the shops outside of the train station while you were negotiating the bags." Cora continued to study the parcel, caressing the fine paper with her thumb. "I bought it for Sybbie, but we have so many things for her already, and she's still so young."

Robert took a step closer, their toes almost touching.

"She wouldn't mind, Robert, would she?" Cora asked, her voice tinged with a touch of guilt.

"Of course not," Robert replied softly, brushing his hand over her head soothingly before leaning down and placing a light kiss on her forehead.

Cora sighed and squeezed his elbow. She broke away and took up the comb and the present and Robert followed closely behind as they left the room. The Robbins were by the tree. Mr. Robbins glanced up with a scowl at their entrance while little Lizzy sat curled in her mother's lap, sniffling and looking down at the tattered stocking she held in her hands. Its meager contents of two oranges and a halfpenny lay discarded on the floor by her feet.

"I think Father Christmas got turned around," Cora said, walking toward the family. "He left these in the bedroom."

Lizzy swiped at her tears and looked eagerly at Cora. When Cora held out her hands and the girl saw the presents there, she turned her hopeful face to her mother. Once Mrs Robbins nodded her head, Lizzy leapt off of her and ran in their direction. Cora crouched down and handed them to Lizzy, who took them and brought them to her chest, hugging the gifts close.

"Oh Mama!" Lizzy breathed, holding up the pretty comb so that her mother could see.

"Would you like me to fix it for you?" Cora asked tentatively and the girl's curls jumped excitedly as she nodded.

Lizzy turned and Cora carefully gathered some of her hair, working the comb in just above her knotted ribbon. It looked large on the small girl's head, but the gems sparkled against her satiny hair and Robert's breath stuck in his lungs, a wave of nostalgia seizing him.

"I think that will do," Cora's voice was thick and low as she finished her work, her fingers touching a long strand before she let go and patted the girl's slight shoulders.

Smiling brightly, the remnants of tears drying on her cheeks, Lizzy tore at the tissue paper covering her second present. She made quick work of the wrapping and it fell around her like autumn leaves, gliding down to the bare, wooden floor. In her hands was a small, stuffed Peter Rabbit that Lizzy immediately brought to her lips, peppering his furry face with kisses before she snuggled him under her chin. Cora stood, still looking down at the happy girl. She could feel the steady touch of Robert's hand as he placed it on the small of her back. Lizzy ran to show her papa her presents.

"Thank you," Mrs Robbins said quietly, taking Cora's hand and grasping it tightly.

"It is us who should be thanking you," Robert said. "It does not come close to repaying you for taking us in".

Mrs. Robbins waved her hand. "Oh but it does. Just look at her."

The three watched as Lizzy brought Peter Rabbit around her small home, talking to the bunny, showing him where she sat for breakfast, where her favorite spot was by the fire, where she had fallen and scraped her knee a few weeks prior. The little girl sat by the tree and peeled one of her oranges, sitting Peter Rabbit across from her and doling out his portion. As she ate, she continued to chatter, her head bobbing in time to her voice. The winter light that penetrated through the windows caught the jewels in Cora's comb, throwing prisms of color around the room. Robert glanced at his wife whose eyes followed the little girl hungrily. He reached out and gently ran his finger across her wrist and she startled. Meeting his eyes, a small smile curled her lips.

A forceful rapping on the door interrupted the quiet contentment of the house. Mr. Robbins braced his hand on the doorframe and opened the door slightly. Cora could not hear the murmured words exchanged, but soon Mr. Robbins stepped aside and Matthew and Mary rushed in.

"Mary?" Cora exclaimed in confusion.

Hearing her mother's voice, Mary squinted in their direction. Seeing Cora and Robert she released a long sigh and her eyes fluttered closed before opening quickly.

"Well, thank God!" Mary declared before coming to them.

Still thrown by the presence of her daughter and son in law, Cora watched mutely as Mary kissed Robert's cheek. Mary then filled her vision and she let herself be pulled into an embrace, it taking her a moment to hug her daughter in return. Mary pulled away and examined her critically.

"You're hurt." Mary stated and Cora looked at her blankly before remembering how her head had hit the window of the car the night before.

"Oh it's nothing," Cora assured her, carefully prodding the large bump on her forehead.

"We'll have Dr Clarkson look at it when we get home," Robert instructed, his tone serious.

"Forget about that!" Cora said. "How on earth did you find us?"

"Pratt telephoned from the station to say your train was being held at Selby due to weather." Matthew explained. "So we telephoned the station there and were told you left the train."

"We then called all of the inns around and none had a Lord and Lady Grantham." Mary interrupted.

"Lord and Lady?" Mr. Robbins asked, looking between Cora and Robert suspiciously.

"I knew you were a princess!" Lizzy said in awe, coming up to Cora and beaming widely at her.

"Not quite," Cora cooed.

"Really, Papa. Mama. Do you know the night we have had?" Mary chided. "We imagined the worst."

"We are terribly sorry, darling," Cora responded, contrite.

"It was my fault. Your mother wanted to stay on the train." Robert said. "If you are to be mad, be mad at me."

Mary shrugged. "Well, at least you both are alright."

"How did you get here?" Robert asked.

"We took the sleigh and started for Selby at first light. We saw the car..." Matthew said. "Then we followed your tracks here."

"A regular Sherlock Holmes and Watson!" Robert quipped.

Mary rolled her eyes. "It is fine for you to laugh. "

"Well, I suppose we can let you get on with your Christmas," Cora said to Mrs Robbins.

Robert hurried to the back room they had slept in to collect Cora's clutch and his hat while Cora continued to express her gratitude to the Robbins for giving them shelter. When Robert rejoined the group, it was in time to see Mrs Robbins attempting to press a cloth sack in Cora's hands.

"Please, take it, my lady. We've not even fed you! I feel a terrible hostess." Mrs Robbins lamented.

The woman had a better chance of moving a mountain than getting Cora to take anything from her, Robert knew.

"Do not worry, once we get home we'll feed her with enough for three dinners." Robert only half kidded, trying to dispel the woman's concern.

"I don't doubt." Mr Robbins said sarcastically, examining Robert from his shiny leather shoes all the way up to his expensive hat.

"Well, then, let us not keep poor old Jones waiting with the sleigh. Not to mention poor Granny." Mary interjected, a tight smile scarring her face.

Robert took Cora by the elbow and was leading her out the door when Lizzy ran to them. "Wait, wait!"

Cora turned and the little girl held up a ball of yarn. Cora took it from her and opened it and Robert could see that it was a loosely knitted square, amateurish in its application, with knots and uneven links dotted throughout.

"You haven't any gloves. It's for your hands to keep them warm. Mama helped me make it." Lizzy clasped her hands behind her back, swaying with pride at her craftsmanship.

"But wouldn't you like to keep it?" asked Cora.

"Oh no, my lady, I want you to have it." Lizy proclaimed.

"Thank you." Cora accepted the gift, holding it close and smiling sadly down at the child.

"Come my dear," Robert said quietly, guiding Cora by her elbow out of the farmhouse and into the brisk morning.

The foursome clambered up into the carriage of the sleigh, Robert helping Cora up. She settled near him with Matthew and Mary facing in the opposite seat. Cora breathed with relief when she saw the mountains of thick, heavy blankets waiting for them and arched her eyebrow indulgently as Robert placed one after the other on top of her.

"Perhaps you should save some for the others." Cora quipped.

Robert threw a look over to Matthew and Mary. "They spent the night in a firelit room under downy blankets. And they are young, the air will do them good."

Cora ended her protests. Once layered under all of the blankets, once warmth began to thaw her bones, she realized how truly freezing she had been. And as her temperature rose to a more comfortable level, fatigue swayed her senses and she allowed her eyes to close and her head to rest on Robert's shoulder.

"Mama, are you sure you alright?" Mary asked, her voice sounding much farther away.

"Hmmm," Cora replied before falling into sleep, the cool air filling her lungs as they sped along the snow.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Thank you all for the reviews and follows. This is the last chapter and I hope you enjoy it!**

Robert ran his fingers through his hair, watching every part of Dr Clarkson's examination closely. He had the urge to shift, to reposition himself on his seat and alleviate the cramp in his thigh, but to do so, to move would be to create noise, to possibly miss one of Cora's softly worded responses to the doctor's questions. And so he sat still.

Cora had slept most of the ride back, soundly and without incident as he, Mary and Matthew talked. He had been partially serious in the farmhouse about calling Dr Clarkson, but it was Christmas after all, and once they were on their way back home, Robert had the intense need to rush them all into enjoying the rest of their holiday, as much as any of them could.

He had reassured himself, in the safety of the sleigh, that there was no need. But then they had pulled up to Downton's massive facade and the driver had steadied the horses. Cora was the last to climb down and as she took Robert's offered hand he noticed her eyes seemed a touch out of focus, her movements a little slow. She hadn't responded at first, when he expressed concern, and when her feet were planted on the gravel drive, she had swayed, leaning on him heavily.

Robert had ordered Carson to call Dr Clarkson, Cora feebly protesting at his side.

The glint of the room's lamplight hitting the metal of Dr Clarkson's stethoscope as he placed it in his bag caught Robert's attention. Dr Clarkson rolled his sleeves back down and stretched back into his jacket. Robert stood.

"Seems to be a mild concussion," Dr Clarkson stated, looking from Robert to Cora. "Nothing a little rest won't cure."

Robert released a relieved billow of breath and nodded. Cora smiled at him indulgently, already reaching for the bell pull to summon O'Brien and get changed for dinner. Dr Clarkson grasped the handle of his bag but stayed rooted to his spot in the room. His reassuring smile of before vanished, replaced by a grim set of his lips.

"Your head injury is not serious, Lady Grantham. But what concerns me a great deal is the prolonged self-neglect that is evident." Dr Clarkson kept his eyes on Cora. "If you do not take care you could become quite ill."

Cora lifted her head high, her chin jutting just a touch in defiance at his tone and frankness. Robert's first inclination was to remind the doctor of his place, to be insulted for her. Robert took a step forward, all the indignation he could feel propelling him, but he stopped. Taking just a pause to think, he found he was grateful to Clarkson. Finally, someone had said what he had been agonizing silently over all of these months. He wasn't blind, he could see what was happening to her. But fear tied his tongue and kept him quiet. He had been too afraid of pushing her away. Cora hated to be fussed over.

Dr Clarkson turned to him. "Have O'Brien draw her a warm bath, she was exposed to the elements for some time. And make sure she eats something substantial."

"Yes," Robert responded solemnly. "Thank you Dr Clarkson."

The doctor stood by the door of the room and tipped his hat. "I will come back in a few days to check on her Ladyship. Lord and Lady Grantham, merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Robert murmured, waiting for the door to shut behind the doctor before turning to Cora.

"I have no idea what he is talking about." Cora informed him, crossing her arms across her chest and then glancing away toward the curtained window.

She remained that way, her chest heaving above her arms with each perturbed breath she took. Carefully, Robert walked to her and lowered himself on the bed. Cora continued to look away from him, blinking rapidly. Gingerly, Robert covered her tense hands with his own and pried them away from each other, taking one and resting it on his leg while stroking her knuckles.

"I think you do. I have been very worried about you, you know." Robert said tenderly. "Making yourself sick is not going to bring her back,"

Cora's head bowed and Robert could see her eyes screw shut, blocking him out as she shook her head slightly.

"I just cannot seem to forget." Her whispered words were heavy, broken.

"Forget what, darling?" Robert asked.

Still unable to look at him, Cora responded. "That night. That she is gone. That we were helpless."

Robert brought her hand up to his chest, caressing it before kissing her fingers. "I know, Cora."

"I almost think I have and I go to do something ordinary, like write a letter or sit down to luncheon and then suddenly I remember again and I am frozen. My heart rips and I am frozen." Cora raised her eyes, nakedly vulnerable and clouded and Robert recognized the pain in them. It was the same as his own.

* * *

Cora gripped the massive box and pushed it forward, struggling as it caught on a buckled floorboard. Grunting, she maneuvered it over the obstruction and slid it to the large trunk she had designated as a seat. The paper board of the storage container chafed like sandpaper on the attic's wood floor as she forced it across the room. Reaching her destination by the small window, Cora sat hard on the trunk, the exertion causing her heart to spasm. When her breathing became comfortable once again, Cora lifted the dusty cover of the box. The fine particles swirled in the little light that filtered through and she flared her nostrils, trying not to sneeze. She did not want to disturb the contents in such a way.

Once the top was off, Cora waited before looking into the box, settling the disquiet in her mind. _You can do this,_ she told herself, feeling agitation rise up her back as her hands trembled on the objects contained within. Making sure not to lose her grip on the item she held, Cora placed both hands around it and lifted. The doll, yellowed and matted with time was achingly familiar. For a time, it hadn't left Sybil's hands, going with her everywhere. Slowly, reverently, Cora placed it on the clean sheet she had laid out and plunged her hands back into the box, each item she touched holding some distant memory that came rushing back to her. Cora half expected her three girls to come running from behind the eaves, all pinafores and long curls and pastel ribbons.

Robert mounted the narrow stairs hastily, the words of admonishment he planned to say to her vibrating in his head. Cora could be uncommonly stubborn when she wanted to be and part of him expected her to push back eventually. Staying in bed and resting had never come easy to her, no matter the ailment. Yes, he had expected her to dash out of bed like a colt in the stables the first chance she got, but he hadn't thought her first excursion would be up to the attic. The longer it took to reach her, the more infuriated Robert became. Hadn't she just promised him, not two nights prior, that she would try to look after herself? Did she think rummaging through their old things in the damp, moldy attic was the path to good health?

The guilt he felt, the culpability at letting Cora go on so long slowly fading, was as burdensome as any albatross he had borne. And that guilt partially fueled his anger. As did the knowledge that his control over their lives, their destinies, was sifting through his hands like sand.

The door to the attic creaked open, and Robert could not see Cora at first. Towers of storage boxes were lined up neatly against the walls, dates and content notes scribbled on their sides. Furniture that had once decorated the state rooms but had long since been traded out for newer, more prestigious designs sat covered with sheets, ghosts from another life. Being in the attic, with its plain construction, its infrequent use, was like being in a different house entirely. If Robert hadn't hid up there as a boy, scaring himself by imagining the spirits he was sure dwelled in its private corners, if he weren't surrounded by the belongings that he had once used, he would be sure he was somewhere other than Downton.

The squeak of a sneeze surprised Robert from his thoughts and he walked in the sound's direction, seeing Cora perched under the window, an island in a sea of their forgotten things. She didn't seem to hear him approach, absorbed in her task. The wind outside shivered through to the rafters above them and a shudder shook Robert's shoulders. Looking down, he noticed Cora had an afghan wrapped over her and then he remembered O'Brien. Of course she had known where Cora was and must have brought it up to her. It's how he knew where to find his missing wife, witnessing O'Brien skulk down from the attic stairs and hurrying off.

The fight Robert had been preparing himself for, all of the exasperation that had been strengthening since his search for her began, suddenly abandoned him. Seated as she was, without the full impressiveness of her height and sheltered by the thick throw, Cora seemed small, fragile. The filtered light cast shadows on her and she was made ephemeral.

"What are you doing?" Robert's words were deliberate, so as not to startle her.

His voice shook her anyway and Cora jumped, her hand at her chest for a moment before resuming her chore.

"I am sorting through some of these old things," Cora said. "I always meant to but never seemed to have the time."

"And this is something you felt needed your attention now?" Robert asked pointedly.

Cora sighed, leaning back and brushing a strand of hair that had fallen from her perfectly arranged waves.

"I suppose I thought the Robbins could use them." Cora peered up at him as she spoke, searching for his reaction.

Robert sat down. "You wish to give away the girls things?"

"No!" Cora exclaimed. "At least, not their favorites. Those we will keep for Sybbie, and whomever comes after her. But Robert, some of this never even saw the light of day!"

Robert chuckled, placing an arm around her and pulling her close. "My, they did have their fair share of toys!"

Cora blew an agreeable breath through her teeth and placed her hand on his thigh. "That is putting it mildly."

They sat in a gentle silence, both bewitched by the memories the things by their feet carried. Robert couldn't quite comprehend that it was gone, that time in their lives where these little mementos, these toys and amusements were loved so greatly. Where a new doll or stuffed bear could bring such joy. How could it have gone by so quickly?

"You are going to make one small girl very happy," Robert said,

"I wish I could do more," Cora mused. "Perhaps Mrs Patmore could pack some things from the kitchen."

In way of an answer, Robert pressed a kiss to Cora's temple.

Cora pulled back, a surprised grin animating her face. "What was that for?"

"Because I could not resist." Robert replied. "Because you are kind and thoughtful and I just could not help myself."

Cora hummed with pleasure at his words, the color of her cheeks brightening and she batted her eyes downward, almost hiding from his compliment. It was her way. Robert kissed her temple once again, his lips lingering.

* * *

Lizzy shuddered awake, pulling the blanket tighter before opening her eyes. Seeing the sun through the thin swatch of fabric over her window, she sprung up quickly, dropping her blanket to the ground and running from her room, her bare feet hitting the cold floor.

She stood in front of the door and closed her eyes, lifting her hands and pressing her palms together. She rested her chin on the steeple of her fingers.

"Please, please," Lizzy whispered fervently.

Throwing open the door, Lizzy bounded in looking all about expectantly. The space of her sister's room was undisturbed. The bed neatly made, the few possessions she'd had put away and collecting cobwebs. Lizzy sighed heavily and fell onto the bed, unhappy. She tucked Peter Rabbit into the crook of her arm and held him close.

"Lizzy?" At the sound of her mother's voice, she glanced up, a pout on her face. "Why are you in here?"

"I was looking to see if they came back." Lizzy said sadly.

"Who?" Mrs Robbins asked quickly, before nodding. "Oh, you mean the Crawleys?"

"Yes." Lizzy said, nuzzling her head against her bunny's, raising her doleful eyes at her mother.

"They were very nice, weren't they." Mrs Robbins said sympathetically, caressing her daughter's head. "But I doubt they'll be back in these parts again."

Mrs. Robbins nudged Lizzy and the girl rose, walking slowly as she followed her to the kitchen. Lizzy dragged a chair up to the sink, watching as her mother prepared breakfast. Losing interest in potato peeling, Lizzy leaned forward, searching out the window. At the end of the path to their house was a shiny car, the sunlight gleaming off of it's metal body. Jumping from the chair, Lizzy raced to the front door, pulling it open. The car continued away from their house, turning on the road and speeding away.

"Oh no!" Lizzy cried, sure that it was the kind couple from Christmas night.

Her mother's gasp from behind her had Lizzy looking down at her feet. There was box upon box waiting on their front door. Tearing off the lid of one, Lizzy started crying. It was full of the loveliest objects she had ever seen. Dolls in velvet dresses, wooden puzzles, books of leather and other toys waited for her eager fingers to touch them.

"Oh my," Mrs Robbins breathed, opening the box nearest her. Lizzy watched as the woman pulled out tiny wool coats and stockings that would fit her just right. She caught sight of a pair of satin slippers and her mother helped her slide her feet into them. She had never felt something so soft in her life. It was like stepping on rose petals.

In the middle of all the boxes were two baskets overflowing with food. Breads, fruits and jams, chocolates and candies and fresh milk were placed carefully, looking fresh and tasty.

"Your sister has sent us an angel from Heaven," Mrs Robbins choked out, pressing a handkerchief to her mouth, still gaping at the riches left for them.

"No," Lizzy said seriously. "She sent us a princess."


End file.
